The Present
by behind veils and trench coats
Summary: His Give-Beckett-Everything-She's-Always-Wanted plan is off to a good start.


**A/N:** This fic came to life thanks to a LJ prompt. This is my first time writing this pairing, who just so happen to be my all-time favorite couple, and I was scared to death of ruining their regular flawless selves, but I think I like how this turned out. Drop a review and let me know if you do too? Any kind of constructive criticism will be well received and greatly appreciated.

**Disclaimer:** Castle belongs to the one and only Andrew Marlowe and Co. I'm only playing with the characters.

_~CB~_

He lights scented candles, scatters rose petals across the room and adjusts the sound system until only the faintest notes of Debussy's _Clare de Lune_ can be heard on the background. He has a bottle of champagne ready, a single red rose standing gracefully in a vase and a box of Swiss chocolate waiting to be opened.

And yet he knows perfectly well that this is only the icing on the cake. The real present is currently tucked away in his room, waiting patiently until the woman of the hour shows up.

She doesn't make him wait long, but arrives with a smile that quickly turns suggestive when she takes in the ambiance of his place. "Ooh, big plans tonight?"

"Why, Detective Beckett, you have no idea," he counters with a grin. "I, Richard Edgar Castle, am about to make you the happiest woman in the state."

"You did that last night," she points out, grin ever wider and eyebrow raised.

God. Every time he thinks he can't love her any more than he already does he's proven dead wrong.

"Actually, I made you the happiest woman in the _world_ last night, but that is neither here nor there," he raises his hands, palms out, in a mock bow to humility."Be that as it may, what I have in mind for tonight is considerably more chaste. You won't even have to pop open the first button of your shirt for this. Well," he pretends to reconsider. "Maybe just for my visual pleasure, that is."

"What are you up to now, Castle?" She asks, and her tone is such a Beckett mix of amusement and suspicion that Richard can't quite suppress the foolish grin on his face.

"Not so fast, my lady. First thing's first," he pulls out a white handkerchief. "We must comply with the no seeing rule."

"Hmm, I see. Or, you know, not. Okay. I'm blinded and helpless to your devious ways. But", she quirks an eyebrow even as she lets him maneuver her through the apartment," you'd do well to remember I _still_ have my gun."

"How could I forget? Okay, wait here."

He's gone for a whole five minutes, but Kate can hear him moving around the apartment, muttering curses under his breath and just generally being the nine year old on a sugar rush she's grown to know and love.

Only, he's _her_ nine year old on a sugar rush now.

She's still smiling when he comes back and, positioning himself behind her, quickly undoes the wraps of the handkerchief. She's about to turn around, fully intending to change his mind from his "chaste" plans, when she sees a big cardboard box sitting in the middle of the room.

Sitting on the box, however, there's a tiny puppy dog, eyeing the bright red ribbon tied around its neck with suspicion.

"Castle? What is… How did… _That_?"

"It's a puppy."

"I can see that. Why is a puppy currently chasing his tail in the middle of your living room?

"I don't know, I could never understand why they do that. I tried to chase my ass once, you know, to see what's the thrill, but it was pretty dull," he shrugs. "To each their own, I guess."

"_Castle_."

"You're a detective. Figure it out."

"He's… Uh…" Great. At the rate things are going, her reputation as one of New York's Finest won't make it through the night. "Mine?"

"Yours. Do you like him?"

As if sensing her answer before she can actually say it, the puppy yips in delight and throws himself off the box, trying very intently to climb up Kate's legs instead.

"Yeah! Yeah, of course I do," she laughs and bends down to pick him up. "Hello buddy. I'm Kate." She looks at Castle, that same silly, absolutely delighted grin still tattooed on her face. "Thank you. I always wanted a dog when I was little, but they weren't allowed in the building we lived in."

"Is that so," he grins and wraps an arm around her shoulders. "Well, I guess I have simply flawless taste."

She's so absorbed in the dog that she doesn't even banter back, and Rick smiles triumphantly to himself. He needs to call Jim and thank him for the information, he decides. His _Give-Beckett-Everything-She's-Always-Wanted_ plan is off to a good start.


End file.
